


Butterflies Are Free

by Tipsy_Kitty



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Angst, Branding, Dark Jensen Ackles, M/M, Piercings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 10:04:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tipsy_Kitty/pseuds/Tipsy_Kitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen takes his new slave Jared to be pierced and branded.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Butterflies Are Free

Jared was 15 the first time his life changed forever.

His Uncle Jacob’s wife had just given birth a week before, and the Padaleckis had planned a trip that Saturday to visit the happy young family. But the morning they were set to pile into the family van to make the trip, Jared awoke with a sore throat, and everybody decided it was better if he stayed behind. Jared wouldn’t have minded visiting the new baby and the cousins he didn’t get to see too often, but he was even more excited at the thought of having the house to himself, lying on the couch all day and watching whatever he wanted without fighting for the remote with his siblings.

When policemen came that night to tell him about the ( _no survivors_ ) car crash, his sorrow was tinged with a crushing guilt about how happy he’d been to have the house all to himself that day.

Uncle Jacob was willing to take in the newly orphaned Jared, even though his wife was less pleased at the prospect. But when it turned out that Jared’s parents had amassed a significant amount of debt that Jared’s new guardians would have to pay off, his uncle melted into the background, leaving Jared a ward of the state.

The “state,” a cold woman named Maureen with a checklist and a fancy gold pen, had declared that Jared would be of more value if he were sold than if he were put to work in the state-run factories, and Jared became an indentured state-slave, “ _until the state deems aforementioned debtor be released from servitude, for a term of no less than twenty years and no more than eighty years._ ” 

Jared didn’t think a 95-year-old slave would be of much use to anybody, not that anyone asked him.

 

 

Jared is 19 the second time his life changes forever.

After the death of his parents he had been purchased by the children of a man who was old, and sick, and lonely. Master Julian’s children all thought that if their father had a friend, or a caretaker, or just any warm body, he would quit pestering them to come for a visit.

Also, it hadn’t taken long for them to determine that purchasing a slave was much cheaper than hiring a full-time nurse to care for their ailing father.

Jared was quaking the whole way to Master Julian’s house, his head swimming with terrible possibilities he’d learned about during his brief but intensive slave-training. But Master Julian was so kind, always kind, just delighted to have company. He demanded nothing from Jared but that he read books aloud to comfort him in his illness as his eyesight continued to fade.

Jared didn’t care much for television anymore anyway, not since the day he had glutted himself on cartoons and UFC fights while his family was burning in a car they couldn’t escape, so he was happy to obey. He read aloud news tablets and seafaring yarns and at least a half-dozen Dickens novels. He had been given permission to venture down the block to the public library to find books he thought the two of them would enjoy, and he returned with a little bit of everything: Robert Heinlein and Jane Austen; a 1,000 page history of the Hundred Year War; a compendium of 21st century Chinese poetry, a book about the life of bears, and even an inspirational romance or two.

Jared had also been taught to give shots and check Master Julian’s vitals and, best of all, he was allowed to wear his own clothes like a free person. Jared found to his surprise that he enjoyed his time with Master Julian, and thought that just maybe being a slave wasn’t the worst thing ever. He would have liked to go to college, of course, or go on a first date, and maybe find someone to love who would love him back. And he wished with all his heart that his family hadn’t been ripped away from him by a sleepy saucepan salesman crossing the center lane.

But, Jared felt a certain sense of pride about how happy he was making Master Julian during the end of his life. How well he could read a sphygmomanometer. How competent he was injecting medicines or inserting the catheter if it was called for. And if it wasn’t the life he’d imagined as a kid, it wasn’t _so_ bad.

But then Master Julian had succumbed to the cancer that had been eating at him for years, and Jared was returned to the state-slave facility by his master’s children so quickly that he wasn’t even allowed to go to the funeral or to mourn his kindly master properly.

He spent a week at the facility as prospective buyers wandered in and out, hopeful that he might be bought by a hospital or retirement home so he could continue practicing what he had learned in his years of taking care of Master Julian.

When he was told he had been purchased as a body slave, his vision dimmed and the roaring of blood in his ears was the only thing he could hear for several minutes.

 

 

His new master is handsome, beautiful even, and he had seemed nice enough when Jared had first seen him in the slave pens.

Still, he’s surprised when Master Jensen orders him to strip off his clothes the minute the deliverymen leave.

He isn’t naïve…okay, well, he doesn’t know anything about sex but he knows about _some_ of the things that will be expected of him. He just had hoped, maybe, to be eased into things a little.

“Let’s see you then,” Master Jensen says, barely lifting his eyes from his news tablet.

Jared, trembling more than the day he’d found out he was to be enslaved four years earlier, removes his hoodie, the one that barely fits anymore because his mom had purchased it shortly before the crash. He pauses for a moment until Master Jensen’s eyes flick up from the box scores.

“Well?” he asks, sounding testy, and Jared bows his head in shame as he pulls his t-shirt over his head, toes out of his sneakers, and pulls down his jeans. He hesitates again when he is wearing only a plain pair of boxers, and Jensen sets his tablet aside and approaches Jared.

“Is this how you were taught to present yourself to your master?” he asks, more curious than angry.

Jared doesn’t know how to respond but he figures the safest course of action is to drop to his knees, so he does.

“It’s okay,” Jensen says, smoothing Jared’s long hair away from his face. “I assumed you knew the basics since you aren’t newly indentured. Why don’t you tell me where you were before here?”

And Jared details the last four years of his life, bringing trays of eggs and apple juice to Master Julian, changing his sheets, checking his blood pressure, injecting his medication, reading him books as his eyesight failed.

Master Jensen strokes Jared’s hair, teasing out individual locks, pulling them slightly until Jared feels a strange sensation of pleasure-pain shooting from his scalp down to the base of his spine.

“You are telling me,” Master Jensen says, as he continues to tug Jared’s hair, and Jared continues to pretend to be unaffected by this, “that you have never pleased another? Sexually?”

“No, Master,” Jared whispers.

“And has anybody pleased you sexually?”

“No, Master.”

Jared chances a peek at Jensen’s face, only to see his master palming his dick through his trousers, eyes dark with lust.

Jared lowers his eyes, heart hammering.

Master Jensen lifts his chin, looking deep into Jared’s eyes. “Have you,” Master Jensen asks, as he unzips his pants and pulls out his hard cock, “ever pleased yourself?”

“Not since I was 15, Master Jensen. The state-slave trainers said it wasn’t allowed. Not without permission.”

“And you never asked? Never broke the rules?” Jared steals a glance up at his Master’s face, but Master Jensen looked amused.

“I…” Jared twists his hands in distress. “I had ….some… dreams, sir. On accident.”

“So obedient,” his master murmurs. He pulls out his dick and begins stroking it. “Tell me, sweet boy, what did you dream about?” His voice is husky and his grip tightens in Jared’s hair, hand moving quickly up and down his cock. Jared watches, transfixed, remembering the sensation of stroking himself in the shower when he was younger. His cock stirs as long suppressed desires flood his senses.

Jared pauses, trying to remember. “Sometimes my old QB coach?” he says, embarrassed. “The one I had in high school, before…He was really hot.”

“Oh, God,” Master Jensen breathes. “The things I’m going to do to you.”

And then he’s coming, splashing thick white fluid all over Jared’s face so it drips from his eyelashes and his nose and over his lips.

Jared wants to wipe off his face but he wasn’t told to, so he waits.

“Now I want you to jack yourself off while I watch. While my come dries on your face.”

And Jared does, mortified at first, until his body wakes up to pleasures he’d thought were lost to him forever.

 

 

Jared stands still in the center of the parlor while Master Jensen scrutinizes his new purchase. He runs his hands over Jared’s back, across his chest, down to his ass. He pries Jared’s buttocks apart and runs his fingers up the cleft.

“My blank canvas,” his master says with admiration. “You weren’t even given the slave tattoo?”

“No, sir. Just the tracking device they installed at the slave-training camp. Master Julian didn’t think the tattoo was necessary.”

“Necessary?” His master smiles. “Probably not; you are wonderfully submissive. Get dressed and wash up, we have an appointment to keep.”

Jared looks outside, surprised. It’s nearly 10 p.m.

Master gives him a wet cloth and a pair of black pants. Jared wipes off his face and then steps into the loose pants and ties the drawstring to keep them from sliding off his narrow hips. He looks around in vain for a shirt to wear.

“Hands,” Master Jensen says. Jared dutifully holds out his hands, even though they shake a little. Master Jensen places black leather cuffs around each wrist and hooks them together. Then he produces a black leather collar, and Jared feels wounded. He’s a good slave. Not a runaway. Not a dog.

Master Jensen chuckles at his expression. “It’s not that I expect you to run,” he explains as he clips a leash to the collar. “I know you’ll be a good boy. I just want everyone to know you’re _my_ good boy.”

 

 

Master Jensen’s friend Ty lives above the tattoo parlor he owns, and Jared is led up the stairs to the private entrance. Ty is a burly man with a receding hairline and full tattoo sleeves. Jared stares at his flimsy black slave sandals while they clap each other on the back, but when he peers up through his hair, he is reassured to see kind blue eyes that crinkle at the corners.

The room he is led to is very white, and very clean, and absolutely terrifying. In the center sits an ominous looking leather chair with numerous movable parts and several sets of straps. When he first spies the chair Jared takes an involuntary step backwards.

“Jared,” his master says, tone warning.

Tremors skitter up and down his body and he seriously considers bolting for the door and making a run for the Free States.

Master lays a hand on his shoulder. “You’re going to be a good boy, aren’t you?”

“Ye-es Master.”

Master Jensen loops his leash through a hook in the ceiling and unclips his wrists.

“Why don’t you take your clothes off, son, so I can see what I’m working with,” says the tattoo artist. Jared steps out of his slave-sandals and shuffles to kick them out of the way. He can’t bend over to slide his pants off though, since he’s still hooked to the ceiling, so he has to settle for unlacing the drawstring and letting them pool around his ankles.

Ty lifts his right leg like a horse being shoed, and Jared fights to maintain balance, terrified of slipping and choking.

“Now left,” Ty says and Jared flushes red from his chest to his ears.

“How long you think it’ll take to fuck the blush out of him?” Ty asks, and for the first time ever Jared sort of wishes he’d taken that trip to Nogales with his family.

“Not sure I want to; I think it’s cute.”

“Yeah, okay. What are we doing tonight? I assume you want your initials on him?”

Jared closes his eyes and takes a shaky breath. “JRA, right here,” Master Jensen says as he touches the spot on Jared’s hip that he’d been stroking earlier.

“Brand or tattoo?”

“Brand, definitely.”

Jared feels his heartbeat escalating, his blood racing through his body as though it can escape the pain to come.

“What else?”

“He never even got the standard slave tattoo, so I think he should have that too.” Jensen traced two circles on Jared’s left shoulder blade where the tattoo resembling a pair of handcuffs would go. “But we can probably save that for another day.”

“What were you thinking for piercings?”

“Well, the nipples, obviously. Fat as you can go on the first round so they’re really sensitive. Oh, and a tongue stud. Once you get blown with a stud, it’s really hard to go back.”

“Truer words,” Ty agrees.

“And, obviously, something pretty to show off his pretty cock.”

Jared’s legs give out at that but Master Jensen holds him up so he won’t strangle himself.

“You’ll be fine; I know you can do this,” Master Jensen says. “You do want to please me, don’t you?”

Jared nods slowly.

“Good boy.”

“Okay,” Ty says. “Let’s start with the nipples, that’s not usually too upsetting for new slaves. Then we can move on from there.”

Jensen nods his assent, keeping a firm grip on Jared’s shoulder.

“Help yourself to a beer or a drink,” Ty says. “You can let the boy have something too, if you want.”

Jared’s leash is unhooked from the ceiling and he is led to the scary adjustable chair. He sits down carefully, the cool leather strange against his naked skin. He’s pretty sure this is breaking some kind of health code violation, not that anyone asked him.

Under Ty’s direction he lays back and stretches his limbs out along the chair’s moveable arms and legs. It looks like the tattoo artist will be able to configure Jared’s body any way he pleases.

Jared shudders in fear as Ty starts strapping him down with the black Velcro fastenings that are attached to the chair. Two over his chest, one over and one under his nipples, one holding his hips in place, upper thighs, lower thighs, wrists and upper arms. Tilted back, legs raised and spread, his soft dick and balls hanging unprotected and vulnerable…

“Hey Jensen!” he hears Ty call from a great distance. “You need to calm your boy down!”

Jared’s breath is shallow and panicky and colorful polka dots are beginning to dance in front of his eyes.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay sweet boy,” Master Jensen says, stroking his hair away from his eyes.

“Please, I don’t want this,” Jared whispers, craning his neck to look back at his master. “Please, you don’t have to, I’m a good slave, you said yourself I was obedient—”

“Shhh,” Jensen says. “Don’t worry, it’ll be okay.”

“You’ll stop? We can go?”

“No, of course not,” his master says, smiling indulgently as Jared hitches in another breath. “But you’re going to look so fucking sexy wearing my initials, my jewelry.”

Jared doesn’t really think that’s true, not that anyone asked him.

“I know you’re scared, but it’s gonna be so hot when you’re all finished and healed up. Gonna make me so happy. Okay?”

“O…okay.”

 

 

Ty leans over and marks his nipples with ink.

Then he wipes Jared’s left nipple with a piece of wet gauze. It’s cold and makes Jared’s stomach contract involuntarily.

He winces when he feels the clamps being applied to his tender flesh.

“Master?”

“Shhh, Jared. That’s just going to hold your sweet nubs in place while he slides the needle through.”

Jared squeaks a little at that, too terrified to even be embarrassed.

He fixates on the ceiling overhead, trying to count the number of squares in the light grid until his eyes water from the brightness. When the large needle pierces his flesh he arches his back and cries out, trying to twist out of the straps that hold him in place like a bug on a pinboard.

He looks up at Master Jensen for reassurance but his master is avidly watching Ty slide the needle through and then replace it with a ring.

“Platinum,” Jensen says, stroking Jared’s hair. “Specially made. Nothing but the best.”

Jared realizes he’s supposed to thank his master for the expensive jewelry, so he swallows hard and does as he’s expected.

“Thank you master,” he whispers as Ty moved to his other side.

“You’re welcome, sweet boy. Your nipples look so sexy now. I can’t wait for them to heal, they’re going to be so sensitive, I’ll drive you crazy teasing them…”

Jared groans, fresh sweat breaking out on his forehead from the pain.

“So many ways to play with them now, I’m gonna tug on them and chain them up and hang weights from them…”

After both nipples are pierced Ty swings his rolling chair between Jared’s legs and begins to sterilize the tip of his penis. Jared thrashes his head back and forth in terror.

“Please master, _please, don’t—_ ”

“Shhh, shhh sweet boy. I’ll have to gag you if you make too much noise.”

Jared bites his lip hard to silence his pleas, tasting coppery blood on his tongue. He tries to ignore his surroundings, the clinical white room and gleaming silver tools. He wants to go home.

He remembers his last night with Master Julian, though of course he didn't know that at the time. He made his master’s favorite soup, beef broth with vegetables and herbs de provence, and there was bread baking in the oven. Jared hoped to tempt him to eat that night, Master Julian hadn’t been able to keep much down lately. If Jared could do a better job of taking care of him though, maybe Master Julian would hang on a little longer, long enough to pay the balance of Jared’s debt like he’d been promising to do, pointing out that his children don’t need his money and don’t deserve it when he’s gone…

“Which one did you decide on?” Ty asks.

“I don’t know, the Prince Albert seems so…prosaic, doesn’t it?”

“We could definitely do something different if you want; there’s lots of options,” Ty says. “On the other hand, if you’re considering keeping him in chastity, I’d stick with the PA. Lots of cages, you can use the piercing to lock him in good.”

Master Jensen caresses Jared’s cheek, and he struggles not to flinch under the touch.

“I _do_ like the sound of that.”

Jared does _not_ like the sound of that. Not that anyone asks him. He’s pretty naïve about sex, only marginally aware of what they’re discussing, but he clearly understands the concept of having his dick locked away. He doesn’t know why his master would even want that; master knows how well-trained Jared is, how he never touches himself without permission unless it’s to wash.

“Also, if you have any interest in sounding, this locks straight into the ring.”

Ty raises his hands, a hoop with two balls on each end in one and a small steel rod in the other.

“Master?” Jared pales. “What does that mean?”

“Shh, don’t worry Jared. We won’t be using that for while.”

Jared turns pleading eyes to the tattoo artist, who shrugs a little uncomfortably. “This goes in your urethra, kid,” he says, pointing at the rod.

Jared loses touch with reality after that statement, his mind scampering back to the warm, cozy kitchen that smells of fresh bread, stirring his beef broth and planning what they’ll read when they finish _Bleak House_.

He’s ripped back into the present when clamps are placed around his cock, followed by a searing pain that tears through the sensitive cluster of nerves under the head.

Jared screams, long and loud.

“It’s okay, sweet boy,” his master says, right in his ear. “It won’t hurt for long. And damn, it looks sexy as hell.”

Master Jensen plants kisses on his cheek but Jared is barely aware of them, writhing in agony at the alien feel of metal piercing his cock.

He closes his eyes and tries not to cry, but it’s hard as he listens to his Master whisper filthy things in his ears.

“Waited so long for my own slave, I have so many plans for us. Can’t wait to stuff you full, your cock and your ass, and play with your nipple rings until you’re begging to come. Gonna be so fucking hot, sweet boy.”

“You know you gotta leave him be for at least four weeks, Jen, we talked about that,” Ty warns.

“Yeah, yeah,” his master says to Ty. Then he leans in close and nibbles at Jared’s ear. “Can’t wait to get in that virgin ass of yours, it’s going to be so tight,” Master Jensen whispers. “I’ll make it nice and slick first, spread you out on my bed, slide my fingers in till you can’t stand it…”

Jared looks down the length of his body to where a large drop of blood is welling up from his pierced cock, and he feels faint.

“Please, master, can we go home?” he asks in a trembling voice, not even ashamed anymore that he sounds like a scared child.

“Not yet, sweet boy.”

After the third piercing, the tattoo artist unstraps Jared’s various restraints and lets him sit up.

“Hey kid, you want some water?”

Jared nods gratefully and takes the offered bottle.

“Need a bathroom break? This next bit’s gonna take awhile.”

Jared nods again and stands up, trying to block out the throbbing in his nipples and dick. At least the pain makes it easier to ignore the fact that he’s walking around naked.

Halfway to the bathroom door Ty calls out, “Hey kid, better sit down to whiz till you learn some control!”

He doesn’t know what that means at first. When he figures it out, he wonders miserably if he’s going to have to pee sitting down for the rest of his life.

Jared stays in the bathroom as long as he dares, head resting in his hands. Then he opens the door and braces himself for round 3.

 

 

Jared was kind of expecting to be branded with a hot poker like a cow in an old western, one bright flare of agony that would slowly burn itself out over time. As it turns out, he is instead subjected to hundreds of tiny third-degree burns while Ty works his master’s initials into the delicate skin over his hip bone with a small metal blade.

He’s given up protesting and pleading for his master to stop this. It does no good and might bring down further punishment for talking back or being insubordinate.

Also, Jared’s beginning to suspect that his pleas for mercy are causing Master Jensen to squirm uncomfortably in his tight jeans.

He doesn’t beg but he still screams, can’t _not_ scream, when the hot metal begins burning his flesh. He holds Master Jensen’s hand tightly and squeezes his eyes shut. He tries to ignore the scent of his flesh burning, and the searing pain, but it just goes on and on and on.

He starts chanting under his breath, a mantra to stave off the pain. It was a phrase he’d read in one of Master Julian’s books recently.

_I only ask to be free, I only ask to be free, I only ask to be free …_

He is distantly aware that Master Jensen is kissing the tears that run down his cheeks.

“Looks so good, sweet boy, marked forever. I can’t wait to lick your brand, lick my initials into your sweaty skin. You’re going to taste so good.”

 _That’s nice,_ Jared thinks, and then he passes out.

 

 

“…think he’s had it for the night.”

“No, c’mon, he’ll be fine. Just finish with the tongue and then I’ll take him home.”

“Jensen—”

“C’mon, Ty, I promised not to play with him till he’s all healed up, and the sooner you do this the sooner he’s better.”

Jared opens his eyes and remembers where he is and why it feels like he’s been burned with hot coals. A whimper escapes his lips before he can stop it, and then Master Jensen is there, running his fingers through Jared’s sweaty hair.

“We’re almost done, then I’ll get you home and put you to bed, does that sound good?”

Jared nods and looks away, wretched, helpless.

“Only thing left to do is pierce your tongue.”

His seat is adjusted so he’s sitting up, with no choice but to watch Ty approach him with another set of clamps and frightening steel tools.

“Almost done, kiddo,” Ty says. “Just open up and say ahh.”

Clamps. Needle. Pain. Metal. He could give seminars.

He snorts a little at that, almost amused, until he feels his mouth filling up with blood.

 

 

Jared can barely keep his eyes open as Master Jensen pays the tattooist and accepts a kit of sterile gauze and antimicrobial soap and cleaning instructions, as both men help him down to the car on his shaky limbs. He sleeps on the way back to Master Jensen’s house, slumped against the cool glass window, and then he’s being escorted inside by Master Jensen and a small dark haired woman he doesn’t know. He looks at her through bleary eyes and she smiles sweetly.

“I’m Lauren, Master Jensen’s house slave. I’ll show you around tomorrow.”

“Oh,” he says, except his tongue feels like it’s made of bricks and nothing comes out right.

“Don’t talk,” Master Jensen reminds him.

Jared thinks that sounds like a good idea. Maybe forever. He falls silent and tries to concentrate on walking, one foot in front of the other, without passing out. He stumbles on the stairs and Master Jensen carries him up the last few steps, deposits him on a bed in what is either a very small room or a very large closet.

“I promised Ty I’d keep my hands off of you until you’re a little more healed up, so it’s probably safer if you sleep in your own room tonight,” Master Jensen says as he gives Jared’s ass a fond pat. “I’ll be right next door if you need anything.”

Jared burrows under the covers and curls up on his unburned side. Master Jensen sits down on his bed and slides a thumb along the nape of Jared’s neck.

“I know today was scary, but I’m really proud of you. You were such a good boy, I know you’re going to make me very happy.”

Jared gives him a small nod.

“And I’m gonna make you feel so good, feel things you never dreamed of.”

Jared nods again.

“Only _I_ get to make you feel good though, Jared. No touching yourself, just like you learned at the slave center. Understood?”

Jared can’t imagine that being a problem. He’s pretty sure his sex drive has been marooned on a desert isle, never to be seen again.

Finally his master leaves and Jared sits up and carefully pulls the covers away, examining the alien landscape that had once been his body.

His nipples are swollen, his burned flesh hidden under a large bandage. His tongue feels the size of a potato and he can't seem to stop drooling.

Then there's the curved half-circle of silver that snakes out of the end of his cock, seeming to wink at him in the moonlight.

He casts his mind back over the past several hours, wonders dimly what his future holds. He’s been a slave for almost five years, but only just discovered what that really means, how deep it runs. His body isn’t his anymore, it doesn’t belong to Jared. It belongs to the state; it belongs to Master Jensen.

His new master could take care of this body, cherish it, adore it. Or he could use it up till there's nothing left but a Jared-shaped shell.

Jared has no say.

Not that anyone asks him.


End file.
